


Naruto: Black Heart

by Bored321



Category: Naruto
Genre: Action/Adventure, DNA Grafting, Dark, Dark Uzumaki Naruto, Empathy, Family, Gen, General, Horror, Hubris, Humor, Mangekyou Sharingan, Retribution, Sharingan, Subterfuge, reality ensues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-10 18:43:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3299849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bored321/pseuds/Bored321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The destruction of Uzushiogakure, the Kyuubi’s spontaneous appearance outside Konoha, and the sealing of the demon within him. All of these were arranged. So is he walking his own path, or merely a pawn in the greater scheme of things?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naruto: Black Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Posted here for interested parties.

Disclaimer: Owing towards the hubris of a collective bunch of idiots who’d deluded themselves into believing that fuinjutsu could do literally _anything_ (hysterical), Kushina was never bestowed the “privilege” of hosting Kurama. Just so you know who to thank.

“Character Dialogue” **–** “For what profit is it to a man, if he gains the world, yet loses his soul?”

 _Literal Thoughts_ **–** _Gaze upon Me,_ and _despair._

 _‘Telepathic communication’_ – _‘Despair for the conceited.’_

 **Black Zetsu** – **Don’t delude yourself; true originality is nothing more than an illusion.**

 ***

September 20th, 298 IE

Kirigakure no Sato ~ Mizukage’s Office

Shiryou Keiryaku stood, fighting to hold a firm, focused front that felt barely in his reach.

The man before him, his leader, was a mystery. Some of the darkest rumors of the century flanked him like an angry cloud.

Despite that, even the darkest rumors couldn’t begin to skim the surface of the depravities that the man had ordered.

How bitterly ironic it was that he held the form of a child—the epitome of purity and innocence.

Shiryou watched on silently, as the eyes of the living mystery known as Kiri’s Yondaime Mizukage sifted through the report he had personally handwritten for him. The Mizukage’s face was blank, an empty slate that withheld emotions. A face he hoped he would never have to see again. A face he felt he wouldn’t be seeing again.

At the end of the road, given all the things he had done to pave this path, he had to wonder: Was it all worth it? The DNA grafting, stillbirths, dead children, pregnant mothers who suffered in constant agony and carrying what by all rights were abominations...

And for what?

Money? All the money in the world couldn’t erase or fix what he’d done.

His life? What value did it hold? He didn’t deserve to live; he was every bit the monster as the man that sat before him.

His family? That was originally why he accepted the position of Overseer of Kirigakure’s Research and Development branch. The position itself paid well, and the perks would make other men green with envy.

And given the severity of the economic situation, everyone needed whatever form of spare currency they could get.

Shiryou himself had always held an interest in the scientific field, discovering the unknown, to defy the impossible, to delve into the world of science with colleagues with similar interests.

That was how it was painted, anyways. In reality it was a dull and monotonous job that rarely ended up bearing fruit.

He’d thought whatever he would have to do would be worth giving his children the future and stable life they deserved.

To give Taiki the future he wouldn’t have otherwise.

If he hadn’t dismissed whether or not he would “do whatever it took,” whether he could—and _would_ —“put his work above all else,” if he had erred on the side of caution, instead of throwing it to the wind, if he hadn’t dived head-first into untrodden waters.

“Shiryou,” the Mizukage’s usual monotone brought him out of his mental wandering and back to reality. Bleak, grim, hopeless reality.

He looked up wearily. Normally, he’d be hesitant to meet the man’s eyes. They were so empty and inhuman. But now? He couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Am I correct in assuming that the information contained within this folder is completely and one-hundred-percent _accurate_?”

He nodded solemnly, feeling utterly devoid of the will to do more.

Then Mizukage _smiled_ , and Shiryou felt his blood run cold.

Kiri’s third Mizukage rarely ever showed emotion. When he did, it was a form of condescension.

The blood-curdling smile that marred the man’s lips spoke ill for the world at large.

What... had he...

“Dismissed.”

He turned, not bothering to bow, or show any form of respect towards his Kage – if the man wanted to kill him for his disrespect, he was welcome to – and sauntered out of the Sandaime’s office.

**~**

Kiri’s ruling Kage held back a frown at his subordinate’s behavior: Shiryou was always so well-mannered and polite, yet here, he had left without so much as a form of acknowledgement.

He shrugged the thought away. He could be lenient; mercy was just another one of his boundless virtues.

Besides, Shiryou had done well, very well; shame he had to die, but he couldn’t let such important discoveries be spread, lest it get out like unbridled gossip.

Still, such grim business could wait, and Shiryou _did_ deserve a reward for all his hard work. Although, the man looked about ready to do the deed himself. Wouldn’t that be just grand of him? Shiryou Keiryaku: ever the dutiful employee.

Chortling at his joke, he left the Mizukage to his own devices.

He had the appointment of the Godaime to arrange.

~

Yagura pulled out some papers from his desk and started filling out the funeral arrangements for one of their top researchers who had tragically taken his own life.

It was the least he could do; the man had dedicated countless years of efforts into Kiri’s research and development and had given them a substantial edge over their competition.

Alas, if he could not be honored in life, then he would be honored in death.

In the corners of his office, a looming masked figure parted ways from the shadows, its form bathed in darkness.

He was ready.

September 5th, 299 IE

***

 **~** Konohagakure no Sato ~ Namikaze Compound

Kushina stirred some grated ginger into her dish while humming a little tune.

Her mood was chipper as could be given that Naruto was due soon, and that annoying constant soreness that had been bothering her these last couple months had finally ceased.

Naruto had abnormally strong chakra that pushed against her own. Something like that anyways. Something like that anyway - it wasn’t dangerous for either of them, so she didn’t focus on it that much. Though, she _was_ having an internal debate on bragging about her son’s already incredible chakra.

Kushina grinned; something told her that he was going to grow up to do great things.

“Now if only your father could get anyway from the people constantly seeking to bother him.” She sighed listlessly. For what was the most powerful and influential village in the world, one would think people would strive for a little moreindependence.

***

~ Hokage Office ~

“So, Hokage-sama, do we have a deal?”

Minato’s gaze stood on the man in-front of him. A “Shiryou Keiryaku” if his identification was to be believed.

Not even half-an-hour ago, just as he was about to _leave_ , had the man come to him, asking to discuss an important finding that he might be interested in. Normally, he’d tell any prospective clients to talk his secretary about booking an appointment and the appropriate lodgings, but given what the “important finding” entailed, he made an exception.

His eyes flicked to the scroll on his desk. Hidden within the contents of the unassuming paper were possibly the most advanced sealing array to be conceived throughout the Elemental Nations.

Though, the price he was asking was bordering on absurd.

Who was he kidding? Obviously not the shrewd merchant posing as a random passer-by, judging by the smirk he tried to pull back. Like he’d ever turn down such a work of art because he was feeling frugal.

And besides, the village could always use an immaculate seal in its ever expanding arsenal.

He opened his mouth to respond, but the smirk overtaking the man’s face told him what he was going to say.

***

As she successfully managed to walk down the stairs _without_ toppling down them in the process, she breathed a sigh of relief; last time she ever let the sleep in her eyes take up undue residence.

She rested her, newly sleep-ridden, eyes on the blond form hunched over a desk. The form emitted a furious set of scribbles as he drove lead unto paper, the sound punctuating the empty room’s somber mood.

“Research,” came the rushed and distracted response. No doubt by whatever it was that he was working at.

Kushina rose an eyebrow at the vague answer and made her way over to Minato’s desk, noting with amusement that he had discarded a dozen dulled pencils worked into nubs.

Peering over his shoulder, she decided to interrupt. “What exactly is so important that you can’t—” she cut herself off, grimacing when she saw what Minato was working at.

There, along with several other tomes and scrolls, lay the unraveled scroll to what had to be the most powerful and complicated seal in existence.

“The All-Consuming seal of the God of Death,” as it was grandly titled. Kushina’s mind began to subconsciously pick apart the seal’s numerous and uncountable arrays and pathways. While she lacked her husband’s passion toward the sealing arts, she still knew far more than the average person.

A Feeling of unease settled within her, and she parted her gaze from the legendary seal.

Minato, looking up in time to recognize her distress, barked out a dismissive laugh.

“If you’re worried that I’m going to sacrifice myself to some immortal god, Kushina, don’t. I bear no intentions of summoning this supposed ‘Reaper of Souls’ to perform some kind of ancient sealing rite. I was just looking over it to see if I could copy down some of the seal without the costing me my life,” Minato clarified.

Kushina smiled, deciding to let the unnerving subject of the seal drop; there was no reason to worry over nothing.

“I hope not,” she joked, “I’d hate to have to raise Naruto on my own.”

Minato snorted, “Far be it from me to abandon my own child.”

Kushina decided to move the subject on before she dredged up bad memories. She knew exactly what Minato wanted.

And she knew all too well _who_ had caused that gaping hole to form over his heart—a hole he had spent his entire life trying to fill.

She prayed for his sake that their child would fill the hollowness that existed within him.

She turned and made her way back upstairs. “Anyways, breakfast is ready, and I can’t eat it all myself.”

Minato’s chair slid out and Kushina could’ve sworn he muttered something, but the scrapping of wood masked it.

Kushina halted in place. Slowly she turned her head to look him in the eye, and then grated out in a tone devoid of warmth, “Did you say something, Minato?”

Minato’s smile was angelic. “Oh, I just said that you ‘look like you could’.”

She blinked, completely unsure as to how to respond. Minato tended to quiver like a scared child whenever she took that tone.

_Did he grow a pair overnight?_

Puzzlement and amusement fought and exchanged blows, each capable of slaying lesser emotions, strengthened by their cause. But in the end, there could only be one. Laughter made its way from her throat.

Whether she was laughing at what Minato had said, or that he’d finally stood up to a woman, Kushina wasn’t sure.

Whatever the case, she was glad. It’d be a tad pathetic for their son to lose his ability to talk to a girl at the first sign of anger.

***

October 10th, 299 IE ~ Konoha General Hospital

Minato Namikaze, Fourth Hokage, the Hero of Konoha, and many other impressive titles and epithets, could currently be found with his arms crossed against his chest in a manner suggesting causal ease. His back arched straight against the hospital walls.

The very dull, monotonous, and blandly sterile white walls, the hallway’s sole occupant noted in growing annoyance. He made a mental note to have them painted before the monotony drove some poor soul to insanity.

The Kage’s face could be compared to that of his stone counterpart: calm, collected, and absolutely focused. Even during his wife’s twenty-plus hours of labor—along with his only form of reprieve of making small talk with his student—Namikaze Minato remained the very personation of stoicism. The combination of unflappability, impartiality, and general aloofness, painting the perfect picture of a regal king ruling over his kingdom and its subjects.

The apocalypse itself could strike and he’d see to the situation in such a fashion that the would-be catastrophe would be over and dealt with by time he went to clock out.

Or at least, that’s the impression his behavior left.

But one did not need a PhD in psychology to see that he was teetering on a nervous breakdown. Scenarios flashing through his mind, each worse than the last.

Most of them were generally irrational, he admitted, but still within the infinite grasp of possibilities.

Minato shook himself from such grim thoughts. Kushina was giving birth to their son; he shouldn’t be distracted by unlikely events. They had the best people overseeing Naruto’s birth.

He took a moment to ponder what his son’s elemental affinity would be. Everyone had at least one. Two for the luckier ones—he and Kushina among them. Some even had three. He tried to imagine someone wielding four or even _five_ , but a person being born with four elemental affinities was infinitesimally low.

To actually wield all five was impossible to even grasp.

And all this without factoring in miscarriages, stillbirths, and lethal childhood accidents preventing the affinities from being discovered.

Minato’s brow twitched. Minato's brow twitched, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable with his current train of thoughts. He shrugged; such things were easily fixable.

Upon further reflection, perhaps sending Kakashi away to have a chat with his friends to kill the noticeable tension wasn’t one his better ideas.

And perhaps talking to the graves of fallen comrades wasn’t the best way to cope with loss. As long as it wasn’t causing harm, it wasn’t of any his business.

No sooner had this thought occurred to him when an earth-splitting roar decided to make its entrance, causing the entire building to tremble.

His breath hitched within the recesses of his throat, the _energy_ that followed explosion’s wake pressed an invisible weight upon him.

However, he had not gotten to the position of Hokage by resting on his laurels and growing weak like some dime-a-dozen desk-jockey working a 9:00 to 5:00. Steeling himself, Minato’s chakra came to life, flaring through his pathways and ridding the detrimental effects. Impairments removed, he disappeared with his signature technique, a flash of yellow being left in his wake.

***

~ Konoha General Hospital ~

Kushina’s hands shook with a mix of exhaustion and joy as she took the bundle containing Naruto. Her crimson locks stuck to her forehead. Her clothing, sweat-stained and disheveled. Her body shaking with strain. She beamed holding her child in her arms.

Biwako, who'd been assisting her tirelessly through the birth, decided to add her piece. “So, as I understand-” she began, only to be cut off by the hospital shaking like an earthquake had struck.

Lights flickered, containers fell off ledges and scattered their contents, and Kushina could actually _feel_ a searing energy brush against her.

She held tighter onto Naruto out of instinct, who didn’t fuss in the slightest. A quick glance told her that he was fine—content, even—despite being faced with acidic substance.

Biwako was saying something again. Kushina wasn’t affording her as much attention as she normally would, currently focused on her child. Kushina made out something about Naruto being healthy, there being in no risk of danger, and them being needed elsewhere at the–

“–Kushina? Are you list–“

“Yes, Biwako. I _did_ get all that. Don’t let me keep you.” She winced; that came out harsher than she would have liked.

Biwako didn’t seem offended. She nodded and made her way out the door. With Taji filing after her once she’d bid her a congratulations.

 _Now_ Naruto started to fidget and fuss. She held him closer, as to lull him to sleep and away from whatever nightmare was that happening outside. “Shh, it’s alright. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

"Her body went stiff when she heard a voice entrenched in mirth and an undercurrent of malice that seemed as if it originated from her own head.

“ _Oh_ , I wouldn’t be so sure of that...”

Her grip tightened on Naruto as her eyes searched the room, wondering if the voice real or imagined.

Something _pulled_ on her chakra and she felt her energy being reaped. Her jaw tensed in concentration, willing away the bleariness rapidly overtaking her vision, willing away the bleariness rapidly overtaking her vision. Real or perceived, she wouldn’t let any harm come to... come to... Na...r...uto...

What looked to be a vaguely humanoid white glob approached the edges of her fading vision, its face alight in a gleeful grin.

Kushina’s world faded into darkness, the abomination of a human at the forefront of her mind.

_Not again._

_***_

Konoha ~ Shinobi Distract

He placed his hand against the gate’s seal and let Kushina’s chakra flow. The gate clicked its assent while tumblers rose and fell, gears shifted, latches became undone, and the gates towards Minato Namikaze’s “house” parted.

He dashed to the front door and made his way inside, easily making his way into the basement—he hadn’t much else to do but memorize the entire place when he was hiding on Kushina for _twelve-months_. If the Yondaime was anywhere near his rumored intellect, the days of enduring Tobi’s tyranny were coming to an end.

The complex’s basement was quite the sight to behold; notes, books and scrolls lined various shelves, and tags and designs of arrays pinned the walls. He even spotted the Shinigami’s seal, spread out with various texts stacked aside from it.

A pause of uncertainty made its way to him; while the Yondaime was passably intelligent, for him to go messing around with a seal that had brought _Madara’s_ end implied a lack of common sense.

He shrugged; there was nothing for it. He could manage if Minato didn’t discover his parting gift.

Things would just be more bearable if he did.

But he was not here for that. His gaze leveled upon the massive array that lined the back of room.

The “Master Seal”, as he dubbed it, awaited.

Approaching the seal, he pulled out the vial that contained Madara’s heir’s blood, and promptly set to work.

With unmarked precision and grace that one would not guess he possessed, he inlayed the owner of the blood and chakra he had with him.

He pushed the foreign chakra into the seal, and let it flow. The seal shone blue in response to the unrecognized chakra entering its system, but slowly dimmed in acceptance.

His work finished, he turned away from the seal and made his way to his next staging area.

Something caught his eye.

Methodically placed out on a table was what appeared to be the Yondaime Hokage’s custom made explosive tags.

White Zetsu grinned maniacally, a sickeningly ironic idea already in the works.

***

Appearing on the outer walls of the village where the sentry’s kept watch, Minato’s face twisted into a frowned as he glanced around to find no one. His frown deepened as he caught scent of charred material he couldn’t quite place. Taking an apprehensive look towards the ground confirmed his suspicions.

Strewn about were the horrifically burnt corpses of the recently deceased spotters. His face twisted as he took in the horrific conditions of their bodies.

Clothes tarnished, black and red skin melded together, faces reflecting the anguish of their last moments. And their eyes...

Shinobi had dealt out worse damage than this. He was generally desensitized to such sights.

But for it happen to his own men...

Minato diverted both his gaze and his thoughts from the grisly sight; there were bigger things going on and it wouldn’t do to get distracted.

He checked to see if there were any stable chakra signatures in the general vicinity. With the rapidly approaching ANBU commander, he turned his full attention to locating the mass of caustic energy that was lingering around the area where it had ripped through.

Tracing the trail of destruction that lead into the distance, Minato made out what looked to be some kind of orange-red quadrupedal being, the strangest of all things were what Minato assumed to be tails. There looked to be around nin–

Minato’s heart nearly stopped as he understood what they were dealing with.

Distant memories of chilling stories passed around as a child now seeming far too real. The Nine-Tailed Demon Fox. Here. On Konoha’s doorstep.

His mind recalled a grave day, a day where one of the Elemental Nations most powerful villages had met its end in less than a day. A day where he felt he was living on Death’s door, and that Konoha would soon be next.

And if Konoha fell...

His mind raced with all the fury of a speeding train, sorting through everything he knew on how to subdue the strongest of the Tailed Beasts. He was well aware that “killing” the Kyuubi was out of the question; greater men had tried, the results were either crushed flabs of flesh, or colossal wastes of time and energy.

He would have to seal it within a container—a _human_ container. Given the nature of the demon’s chakra, it would have to be a young child with an exceptionallypowerful chakra. That had been the speculated break-out of the Kyuubi at Uzushiogakure, something he was determined to avoid.

But it begged the question: where would he find a child th—

Minato stood ramrod-straight, his hands shook at his sides while his breathing pulsated. A memory tunneled its way into his head, one that he had associated with a feeling of safety and security.

_“You don’t have to worry, Hokage-sama,” Taji voiced, a calming smile on her lips. But a trace of melancholy infected her words, “both your wife and your child are completely healthy and perfectly fine. Your son’s developing chakra is just abnormally powerful and is pushing against the utero, which is the cause of the pain she’s feeling.”_

He steeled himself, taking in a small amount of solace in the fact that Kushina would be able to raise him, watch him grow-up, teach him his first words...

Minato averted his mind away from such thoughts, Naruto would be happy—and that was _all_ that mattered.

While he reassured himself that everything would work out for his son, the ANBU commander arrived in a shunshin beside him.

“Hokage-sama,” the commander’s distorted voice reached his ears, and he forced himself to listen, “should I begin the evacuation procedures?”

Minato gave a firm nod in affirmation, not trusting himself to speak in his current state of mind. Another shunshin and the man was gone, his chakra rapidly dissipating.

With the other affairs now being handled, Minato blinked in quick session, while quickly swallowing the growing lump in his throat.

He took one last glance at the demonic invader, however, his eyes – misty as they were – picked out a small black figure that seemly stood upon the great demon’s head. He blinked and the black-clad figure disappeared.

Minato closed his eyes and took in a shuddering breath; this wasn’t the time have a breakdown–God forbid he make a mistake with the sealing. He was already making his son the jinchuuriki of the Kyuubi.

He wasn’t going to be guilty of taking his life as well.

“Yo.”

If the apathy that dripped from the unknown individual’s words didn’t do it, the hand that clamped down on his shoulder in a vice-grip did. His hand clenched over his kunai, his movements so quick that most ninja weren’t able to register the fact that he’d so much as twitched, intent on placing it at the throat of this possible enemy – ready to remove their head from their shoulders, if need be.

He went to complete his action, but something was _off_ ; his directions felt inverted, left was right, and right was left. Before he even knew what had transpired, he found himself roughly deposited on a plain of grass.

Pushing aside his confusion, Minato flared his chakra to try and dispel this possible genjutsu. Two scenarios made their way into his mind: either he was dealing with a master of genjutsu - unlikely, given he should already dead if such were the case - or it was a space-time technique...

A deep voice laced with contempt cut through the air, and Minato shook himself from his thoughts. Minato spun to face his opponent.

“My, my, _this_ is the legendary Namikaze Minato? You’re not nearly as fast since you took down the Raikage. The armistice period lead to you growing fat on your own success?” He scoffed. “If I’d known you wouldn’t have noticed me back there, I would have just cut your throat. Alas, missed opportunity, but worry not, for I shall be attending to that problem _personally_.” Minato ignored the jab, focusing his attention on his masked opponent. The orange mask with black-flame markings stood out in-particular.

“Who are you and what is it that you hope to gain by assaulting me?” Minato hissed, hoping he was arrogant enough be distracted by unnecessary dialogue. “All you’ve managed signing your own death certificate.”

Despite the mask, Minato could tell that that the other man was sneering. “Oh, I’m afraid that you’ve already signed _my_ death certificate...” Minato resisted the urge to scoff. Was that supposed to be some kind of cryptic clue into why he so clearly hated him? Had he dealt him some terrible wound? Or perhaps killed someone who “gave his life meaning”?

It was an unavoidable fact of life: everyone was someone’s child, and he soon found himself no longer moved when confronted with killing a nameless face. Mother, father, brother, sister – many of both age and gender had sought to do unto him as he had done unto their kin. Their minds stoked by flames born of vengeance. Each in turn had met the same fate.

This time would be no different.

“In spite of your pathetic attempts to intimidate me, I’ll humor your little inquiry. Seeing as you’re going to die tonight, if nothing else,” the mysterious figure said, his tone dripping with condescension.

“I hold many names and titles. In another life I was known as Uchiha Madara.”

Minato digested this supposed revelation. It helped explain how the Kyuubi had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. His mind clicked as he processed that statement, along with the unsaid message it carried.

 _Rage_ , both unadulterated and unrefined, ignited within him at the confirmation that _this_ was the perpetrator towards the Kyuubi’s arrival; the one who... He stopped the growing wildfires cold, lest he lose himself in their vast heat.

This didn’t change anything.

It did not matter who this was or wasn’t, what they had done or what they hadn’t – the only thing that mattered was that they were going to die—preferably slowly. But time was a necessity that could not be squandered.

Yes, Minato decided, this bastard’s death would be swift, it would be brutal, and it would be merciless. Paid for in blood.

“As for what I stand to gain... I suppose it can’t hurt. What I’m going to gain is the gratification of seeing you and your contemptible excuse of a village dying in both despair and agony – to lie in the graves of your own making. I’ll start by cutting off the head of the Serpent that is Konoha, as the rest will fall with it.”

No sooner than those words left the man’s lips had the masked man charged forward, his form naught but a shadowy wraith in the night.

It would seem that the pleasantries were over with.

And it was all the better for it.

Minato’s response to the man’s reckless offense was simple and efficient. One of his triple-pronged kunai left his hand, its head aimed directly at the cloaked-figure’s head. Lightning arced on the tip of the blade, flowed through the weapon, while a pressurized burst of wind caused it to take off at breakneck speeds.

A quick chain of hand seals insured that his lightning infused kunai gained three physically identical triplets that sprouted off from their original, and then those three became twelve. But Minato didn’t dare underestimate this man, and used a _much_ simpler jutsu taught to firsters at the academy – this one being mastered to the point where he no longer needed the hand seals used to mold chakra – and those thirteen knives replicated and produced numerous incorporeal offspring.

He was done by the time the opposing ninja had managed to cover over five feet of ground.

To Minato’s suspicion, the other man was not cowed by the innumerous speeding projectiles, and did not falter from his path in the slightest.

The reason as to _why_ he tried his hand at such a blatantly suicidal charge became abundantly clear when the man’s only response was to leap forward in a blur of motion, his form actually _phasing_ threw the hail of steel and crossing the distance between them impossibly fast, a kunai already brandished and poised to tear out his throat.

He was too slow.

In the fool’s haste to try and rush him, he’d made the mistake of overlooking as to _where_ he stored his Hiraishin-marked kunai.

A simple thought that was now as easy as walking and he had arrived directly above his masked foe, his personal technique already complete. His hand drove forward, the ball of death resting on his palm seeking out the bastard’s heart.

The spinning condensed ball of chakra was mere inches from the masked ninja’s exposed back before a _wall_ of chakra sprouted from the offending area.

Minato didn’t hesitate, driving forward with his Rasengan, the two charka constructs clashed against each other and gave a strangled hiss as they battled for supremacy.

Not wasting this opportunity, Minato placed his other hand upon the supposed-Madara’s lower back, before he became impervious. While he doubted that he could create a Rasengan internally with all the chakra this guy had, he didn’t need to.

With no forewarning, his masked adversary planted both of his feet upon the ground, heels already digging into the earth, while chakra shot through his body in preparation for an obvious shunshin.

Too little, too late.

Minato pumped chakra by the handful into his technique, and it reacted accordingly.

The resulting explosion was both blinding and deafening—the latter of which he did not currently experience. He hadn’t quite gotten to managing to focus the resulting blast when he overloaded his Rasengan like that, but he had his ways of escaping the blast radius.

Another thought and his chakra obeyed. He appeared occupying the space his original thrown kunai had entered. He caught it deftly as his feet made contact with the ground, another Rasengan already formed.

The explosive force of his technique caused a mound of dirt and dust to kick up, yet within the cloud of debris, he could make out a faint silhouette bearing a resemblance to that of a person. Not daring to waste time, Minato used a simple wind jutsu to rob the man of his impromptu cover.

“It seems I was wrong about you, Namikaze Minato,” the masked shinobi rasped as the dust cloud swept off him, one hand pressing firmly against his chest.

A frown tugged at his face. Barrier or not, that explosion from his Rasengan should have outright liquefied his organs, not merely knocked the air out of him... _It doesn’t matter,_ Minato thought dismissively, and soon, _nothing_ would; _he_ had already seen to that.

It was only fair that he returned the favor.

The churning chakra that composed that of his Rasengan slowed, as a second source of energy bled into it, only further increasing its lethality.

The man was already living on borrowed time.

Time that would soon be coming to an abrupt and well-deserved end.

“You may have won today, but don’t misunderstand, for I _will_ be back, and next time – _You_ won’t be around to stop me.” Despite the man’s disheveled state, it didn’t seem stop him from managing to talk down to him.

There was a shift in the air, and then he left with that forsaken space-time technique.

That was fine. Better to let him think that he had gotten away entirely, allowing him to grow complacent.

The idea that this so-claimed Uchiha Madara seriously believed that he’d just let him leave like that was absurd. The fact that he could apparently teleport wherever and whenever he pleased alone meant that he could simply grab Naruto anytime he wanted.

And he wasn’t about to let that happen.

Course of action decided, Minato drew upon his chakra to teleport to the Hiraishin marker he had laid on the dead man’s back.

One second passed, no reaction. Another drew the same results. Then three, then four.

When the fifth second finally arrived, Minato stood still, not even daring to breathe.

The unit of time composed of one hundred milliseconds drew to a close, and yet nothing changed. Minato narrowed his eyes in frustration. Had he miscounted? Did he start too early?

When another five seconds passed, he could no longer deny the reason as to why it hadn’t worked:

He was too far out.

Minato stood there, rooted at that spot for an eternity, feeling a faint desire to scream.

Instead, what emerged were words coated with ice, laden with fury, and as sharp as diamond-edged blades.

“Kage Bunshin no Jutsu.”

***

The Hokage Monument stood tall and strong, the faces that had been carved into the mountain overlooked the village like some kind of guardian. Even in death, they remained watchful and vigilant.

Black Zetsu allowed the smallest of smirks to cross his features as he confounded the irony of what he was about to do. It would appear that the endless stars that lined the night sky had aligned in perfect synchronization, for his other half had come up with an idea that actually bore a passing resemblance to something halfway decent.

He was tempted to check if the moon itself had turned blue.

The chakra contained behind the statues was starting to bustle. Weak as the mixed signatures were, the combination of underdeveloped and undeveloped chakra managed to combine itself into a respectable force.

It was a testament to just how _many_ were housed in there.

The actual logic behind storing the noncombatants within an enclosed area when the strongest of the Bijuu was breathing down their necks was not questioned by the ninja he’d delegated - not openly, at least - and why would it be? The organization that were ANBU acted as a Kage’s right hand. Taking only the most high-risk missions, seeing to the most deplorable of tasks, and carrying out their leader’s will at any and all costs.

So who were they, undistinguished and undeserving, to question _him_ , the ANBU Commander?

Their compliance in the face of authority had brought upon their doom.

He forced himself back to the situation at hand, as a Genin, one of whom he’d charged with “evacuating” the civilians, approached him.

While the boy that scurried up to him was clearly nervous and uncomfortable, both towards his presence and the impending catastrophe, he managed to get out a complete sentence without stuttering.

“Sir, the civilians have been accounted for and are now safely inside the bunkers.”

He nodded, showing neither satisfaction nor displeasure. “And your comrades? Where are they?”

“They are attending to the wounded and transporting them to the Hospital,” he replied after a moment’s pause.

Independent action? How peculiar, though not unwelcome. It saved him the time that it would take to relate those same orders.

The fact that’d it’d give his other half all the less reason to screw something up was just a bonus.

Somehow, he doubted even that would be enough.

“I see. You have permission to continue seeing to the task at your discretion.”

The boy’s shoulders relaxed as if he were relieved, then nodded politely. “Thank you—Sir,” he tacked on hastily.

Zetsu toyed idly with the idea of simply killing him right then and there, but decided against it; it’d only be a waste of effort.

He watched the ninja’s retreating back until he turned a corner, and then moved his hands into a seal.

The Hokage, both past and present, served to protect both the Village and its inhabitants.

So, what were to happen, if it were the Hokage themselves that had damned them?

A pulse of chakra, and the countless explosive tags that lined the insides of Monument detonated.

The explosions weren’t the only sounds that traveled through the mountain.

Zetsu’s lips quirked, but he strayed from focusing on the emotion emitting the reaction; he was not one to indulge a useless feeling such as euphoria.

The tremors emerging out from the Monument soon stilled, and a solemn silence descended over the area.

His task now complete, Black Zetsu slipped seamlessly into the earth.

He had a child that needed seeing to.

***

The Akatsuki’s leader’s face warped into a cold, satisfied smile; the Fourth had played right into his hands. The Kyuubi would be sealed within the brat, clearly to his father’s utmost devastation. A happy life with his wife and child, completely smashed by his actions.

His fate was sealed the moment he’d accepted that scroll from him.

And best of all, he could do nothing to stop him. He was already out of the Hokage’s Hiraishin range; he had made sure to learn the limits of the technique – the ability to teleport behind a person with instantaneously was terrifyingly dangerous; he would know, after all.

He pushed such thoughts out of his mind, the soon-to-be-late Hokage had done nothing to earn him of his _own_ ire; getting fixated on his imminent demise was a pointless action that would only lead to him getting distracted.

It’s not like the man could be seriously expected to constantly wipe the asses of his incompetent studentswhenever they found themselves _–_

The cold voice of his subordinate resonated through his mind, effectively cutting off his internal ravings.

**_‘How did you fare?’_ **

Deciding to focus his thoughts elsewhere, he responded. ** _‘_** _Perfectly, the board is set, and the pieces are arranged, now it’s only a matter of time; which I have no shortage of. I trust your half has completed his preparations?’_

_‘ **He has.’**_

_‘Good. Be on standby for the final phase.’_

**_‘Right.’_ **

He closed his eyes in silent contemplation, while sprouting a pleased smirk beneath his masked features.

He had outplayed and outsmarted one of the most gifted minds the Elemental Nation’s would ever know. The future was now his to grasp – to mold and shape as _He_ saw fit.

But he was getting ahead of himself, he should be focusing on the hereafter. Like the matter of–

***

The mass of gyrating chakras ground directly into the back of the man’s unprotected skull, and he was rewarded to the sight of an unidentifiable mixture of brains, blood and pieces of his face spewing out in an articulate display of gore.

The clone watched on with an expression relative to joy, while a warm sense of satisfaction flew throughout him at the feel of the bastard’s brain fluids running down his hand and dripping off his fingers.

His enemy’s headless corpse crumbled to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been severed, and the Kage Bunshin stared with slight curiosity at the sight of his downed enemy, wondering just who was behind the mask; even if he had believed that this was the fabled Uchiha Madara, he still had a nagging question clawing at his mind: Why was he hiding his face?

Minato's clone shook his head to clear himself from such thoughts. It didn’t matter who this was or wasn’t, not to himself, nor his creator; the only thing that mattered was that he couldn’t lay a finger on Naruto.

Besides, he liked the poetic justice that his death had invoked; an ignominious death for an equally worthless man.

It was far more than he would ever deserve.

He let out a bitter, hollow laugh. “Just like he said, you were slated to die.” Though his words were quiet and soft, the exultation lacing them impossible to mistake. “I’m only glad I got to do the honors.”

In-spite of that, though, a small part of him wondered if this was perhaps wrong – that he shouldn’t be enjoying this in such sadistic glee. It wasn’t what he usually felt after taking a life; the feeling of cool indifference that accompanied him when he ended another’s life was not present.

He knew that he had to die, of course – he’d threaten his creator’s son, an unforgivable sin, regardless of circumstance – but should really be _reveling_ in it?

Just, unjust, right, wrong; whatever this was, it mattered not. Perhaps it was just his desire to see retribution, or perhaps his creator had a hidden sadistic side that came out when someone had managed to incur his wrath to the fullest. What was it going to affect?

Sparing one last glance towards his slain foe, the chakra-construct popped out of existence, leaving behind a cloud of smoke in its wake.

***

A mass of goop and cells wound together as they wove and interlinked to amass into their original form.

Basics such a skeletal structure were skipped over. Organs systems, redundant. Retinal capacity, unneeded.

A heavy sigh left him as he finally found himself conscious.

He looked down at his fallen master with envy. Once again, he’d managed to screw him over.

“Even in death, you continue to mock me.”

But no more.

“I hope it was painful you piece a shit.”

***

A frigid, chilling smile overtook his face when the memories of his clone made their way back to him, and a sneering laugh escaped his throat at the man’s fate.

He did not linger needlessly on the matter, however; his clone already perfectly having summed up his own thoughts on the events that had taken place: Naruto was now safe from “Madara’s” shadow; the semantics didn’t bother him.

Minato appeared beside Kushina in a blinding flash of brilliant yellow, and promptly directed his gaze onto that of his wife; their child sat quietly in her arms, wrapped in a simple blanket. Thankfully, Kushina appeared to have decided to rest from the ordeal that childbirth brought on; in bitter-sweet manner, he was happy for the occurrence. It made things... easier. He didn’t look forward to having to explain that he was going to have to seal the Kyuubi inside of their child.

Minato gently took his child from his previous resting place, and promptly set his eyes upon him; before anything else had the time to properly register to his mind, he picked up on several splotches of blood that ran down his arm – it was clearly a blood sample, and not a very good one at that; however, the Kyuubi _had_ both appeared and attacked, so he _supposed_ it was understandable—not acceptable by any stretch of Minato’s imagination, of course, and if the circumstances weren’t so dire, he’d have the incompetent’s head.

He did away with such thoughts – Kushina would be sure to handle such... disciplinary enforcement – as it was now, he should be making the best of the remaining time he could afford.

When his eyes made their way to his son’s face, he choked.

The memories he tried so hard to bury within the confines of his mind start to stir and rumble, and he felt himself standing here again. Holding him, with his pallid skin, and eyes that are sunken and unfocused; neither of which bore a trace of the Sun’s luminescent rays.

“He looks so much like his dad, doesn’t he?

Her eyes shot open with a gasp, lungs already filling with the sterile air that surrounded her. Her eyes - unfocused and dazed as they were - took in the area before her. The first things she noticed were the bland shade of white that decked the walls, along with the strong smell of antiseptic permeating the air...

She allowed her body and mind to relax, dismissing the previous event as some terrible nightmare brought on by the cocktail of pain killers floating around in her system.

After all, Naruto wa–

She froze, dread dawning on her mind.

Naruto was no longer in her arms.

Kushina’s eyes, now feverish and wild, darted across the scene, surveying the mostly empty room save for some standard medical equipment that rested against the walls. To her right was Minato, who was holding...

She released a sigh of weariness, rattled nerves slowly coming to a rest. Naruto was in good hands, meeting his father.

Kushina smiled wearily at the sight, exhaustion sinking in heavily.

“He looks so much like his dad, doesn’t he?”

Minato’s head shot up, features paling, looking as if he’d gotten caught doing something demeaning. She stifled a laugh at the sight; Minato was so over-dramatic.

“Yeah... he does,” Minato eventually replied, voice cracking. “Looks like blond won out over crimson, huh?”

Kushina, ever the eloquent one, blew a raspberry in response to her husband’s jest. “Like—”

“Kushina,” Minato cut in, chokingly.

“The Kyuubi... It’s here. And it’s attacking.”

Kushina grasped at those words, and soon felt a pit of fear settle in her stomach, as the horrific events of the past began to resurface.

“Minato... what are...”

Minato brushed back the golden tufts of hair that lined Naruto’s head, eyes gazing silently at his son, tears now freely dripping from his face.

“There’s no one else... perhaps... perhaps that’s a good thing... If there wasn’t... I...”, Minato choked out, his voice barely above a whisper.

The world seemed to cease moving, and with perfect clarity, her mind began linking the entire situation together; the demon outside the walls, Minato on the verge of hysterics, the way he was talking about their son...

“ _Minato_...” Kushina growled, voice dangerous. “Give me Naruto.”

Minato’s face told her all too well what this was doing to him. “I want nothing more to do so. But I’ve taken up responsibilities... and I have to see them through.”

She went to take her child back, but Minato stepped away before she could barely move, arms already around the bundle within his arms in some twisted parody of a protective gesture.

Her in-take of air quickened; while Minato wasn’t fully committed, the strains of labor and birth had taken their toll on her. As things stood...

“I’m not going to insult you by asking for forgiveness, yours or his; I know I don’t deserve it. But if it’s any consolation,” he sputtered, sentences and words coming out as a garbled mess, “I’ll spare you the trouble of having to kill me yourself.”

Kushina couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, and her breath came in labored gasps as she begged, “Minato... please don’t...”

“I’m sorry,” Minato choked out, his words barely coherent. A simple flash of yellow arrived at the end of his sentence, forever marking his eternal departure.

***

The mighty Kyuubi no Youko stood on all fours, his legendary tails swaying behind him. His eyes peered around, taking in the surroundings. From what he could tell, he was on solid grass. His memories were hazy however, and he was having difficulty remembering what exactly had happened years previous.

He knew that he had spent untold amount of time in darkness, where his only companion was the constant agony that leached him; the concept of time was soon lost after what had been... years? And there was some _human_ that had placed him there, something about his eyes...

Kurama simmered with barely restrained rage, his youki spilled off him in waves, scorching the earth beneath him. For some lowly _flesh-bag_ to even _dare_ to not only imprison him, but to actually enthrall **Him** _– He,_ the Kyuubi no Youko.

He would reduce the world to ash in order to find them.

A thought occurred to him: Why stop there? It wasn’t unlikely that the man had created more retched spawn, and even then, what was stopping other’s from obtaining this mysterious power?

Yes. A cleansing would have to be enacted.

The earth would quake beneath him; famine would ensue as the land and seas were poisoned beyond hope of recovery; pestilence would taint crops, orchards and livestock as they all became poisoned by his Youki, ensuring an epidemic of unpatrolled scope; war would reign once he freed his sibling; and death would be dealt upon _all_. For the transgressions of but a few, _all_ of man would pay.

For he was the Kyuubi no Youko, strongest of the Bijuu – whose very rage was palpable, his wrath, ever-reaching.

They had been given enough chances – enough _lenience_ – it was time to wipe the slate clean.

The Sage was a fool. His “prophecy” was but folklore or other that he’d deluded himself into believing to try and alleviate himself of his failure on trying to curb the human’s sinful nature.

Humanity’s era was now spiraling towards its inevitable end, with only themselves to blame for their complete eradication. And with its reckoning, the era of the Bijuu would rise – _His_ era.

Judgment day had arrived.

He spread out his senses, and picked up on a sizeable amounts of chakra signatures to his right. A quick glance told him it was some kind of human settlement – as good a place as any.

And then there was the single isolated signature a ways away from him. Not notable in either quality, volume or significance. He paused, considering. While he could so easily smite him with but a flick of his tails, if one were to live and to carry on a message...

An envoy of Omega; a herald of Death. Yes. Such a thing had the potential to prove beneficial.

To say nothing of the entertainment.

He turned, and opened his maw wide. Youki pooled together between his gaping jaws, the beginning of a Bijuudama taking place.

But something was _off_.

Drawing upon his energy felt taxing, like it was lethargic. Biting back a growl, Kurama focused on stabilizing what he had; it wasn’t going to wipe the settlement off the map like he preferred - far from it - it’d likely cause them to enter a panicked-frenzy. If there was one thing that was slightly positive about humans, it was that they had the sense to fear their betters.

He found the idea amusingly ironic: the humans, lacking the strength to stand-alone, had flocked together, as if such an act would shelter them from his wrath. If only they had realized that it was futile: no matter what defenses they erected, no matter where they hid, they’d find themselves cornered and trapped; their amassed numbers hiding within their little stronghold would fall and become a grave-marker – a foreboding reminder of what was to come. In the end, all efforts to try and shield themselves from his power were wasted, for the simple fact that he was superior to them — as he would _always_ be.

Finishing his preparation of his technique, he couldn’t help but growling out: this Menacing Ball was _far_ weaker than what _he_ was capable of forming – just _what_ had that human shit _done_ to him?

He pushed the thought away, regenerating lost energy was a trivial matter for one such as him, and sat his grisly gaze upon the human colonization, puzzling out as to where he’d get the best results...

Of course, such plans of revenge were interrupted as a massive frog slammed down on top of him.

Being shoved to the ground by what appeared to be an oversized tadpole only served to augment his rage; cold anger escalated to white-hot fury, reasoning and rationale being wholly consumed by its growing wake, as his anger reached new heights.

The sounds of panicked yelling registered to him, but were drowned out in his attempts to dislocate the amphibian that was currently latching onto him, who was proving to be very tenacious with maintaining its grip.

He snarled in frustration. Realizing that his current tactic was getting him nowhere, he sent out his tails out towards the toad’s limbs and wrapped them around its appendages. Just as he’d tightened his grip with the full intention of tearing this _annoyance_ apart, he froze.

Something inexplicably _other_ crawled its way under his skin; pure _power_ slammed against his very being.

The blazing inferno of rage that had briefly overtaken him was swallowed whole and extinguished by the incoming _oceans_ of power. Mind now clear, he slowly, and with great tribulation, inched his gaze as to where the source of power was originating from.

Time and space distorted in ways that _were_ impossible, the laws concerning them being by-passed entirely, and _something_ materialized through the fabric of reality.

A horrifyingly _familiar_ figure shroud in black with blood-freezing icy wisps of eyes formed within the planes of reality, and the legendary being’s presence escalated at an staggering rate; hope, safety, warmth... anything vaguely associated positive feelings seemed to have been erased throughout the boundless abyss of despair that consisted within the aura of unfathomable power, and Kurama soon felt his very _form_ waver as he was overcome with emotions he would never associated with himself.

At that moment, the metaphorical dam was shattered. And with it, came memories long past buried.

**“Your petty desire will be granted — Those who tread throughout My domain shall find what they have so eagerly sought, but will soon wish that they had not; _you will long to die, but death will elude you.”_**

The memory played back in his mind, more following in its wake.

_One of his tails lashed out, and the last life of the group was snuffed out. It was an act he had performed many times to point of absurdity, and already he grew weary of swatting away the fools who thought to try and seal him._

_He had at first thought that the repeated losses that they had all sustained would’ve deterred their attempts, whether of out of pragmatism, fear or guilt, yet like moths to flame they_ _persisted. Out of arrogance or foolishness, they persisted in following him as he vacated from one remote island to another; their greed and desire at the prospect of controlling the strongest of the Bijuu feasting and ultimately devouring any virtues that they may contain._

_In spite of that however, he resigned himself to wait; until the day that The Sage had prophesied arrived._

_Regardless of his own thoughts on the matter._

That was the day he’d earned his freedom. The day where he had broken from his personally crafted prison that the wretched plant user had helped sealed him in. Where he was bound within the Juubi’s pathetic husk by that _vile_ , loathsome, disgusting, worthlessly degradingly _insignificantly_ **despicable—**

The brewing power that pulsed around him broke him from his growing tirade, and he suddenly remembered _exactly_ where it was he stood; an emotion he never once recalled personally experiencing - yet reveled in dealing out - overtook him.

He went stiff at the unknown feeling; he needed to retreat – for self-preservation sake’s alone; to summon a Celestial of this sheer magnitude, was insanity; to stay in the area, more so.

He needed to revise his plans, if the humans were capable of attracting divine beings of such power, just what _else_ could they allow into this world?! The purge would have to wait, the only thing that mattered was getting away from this _thing_.

His attempts at running were null, however, as some force seemed to be weighing down on him. His form shook wildly as he tried and dislocate whatever it was that was burdening him, yet the presence upon him refused to budge.

Terror wormed its way into his head; fear born of death — of _non-existence._ The concept was foreign to him, for even he was “killed” he would simply rise again.

Here, however, there would be no rebirth, no reincarnation, no restoration, only an end.

He threw his head back and he _howled,_ the action coming from a cornered beast, one who denied the very concept of defeat. He would _not_ perish. He would not _end_. _He. Would_. _Not. **Die.**_

The roar that was wrenched from his throat was beyond the mere concept of sound; it was no more a vibration of matter than it was destruction given form. The earth ruptured, the air was torn, the clouds divided... but most importantly, the object’s weight that latched onto his back had disappeared entirely, as if it were banished out of existence by the wave of destruction.

However – no matter how well-deserved it may be – he did not dwell upon his minor victory, but dug his claws into the ground like prongs, his powerful muscles already tensing in preparation to take off at his fastest speed.

He never got the chance.

The same icy coldness that stung and nipped at his skin suddenly went _beyond_ and swallowed his entire being in its inescapable grasp.

Kurama tried to move, tried to twitch his tails, _tried_ to blink, but it was a wasted effort.

Body and mind both froze when he felt _something_ grab at his very being, and his body then was torn asunder by a force that held no equal; his very existence was ripped to pieces, skin, bone, muscle all becoming undone at the seams – it was a perversity upon his existence; it was a mockery to Creation itself.

It was a torturous agony that was unimaginable, and he no longer had a mouth to voice the pain that was being afflicted upon him.

Kurama’s vision flashed through several colors, before everything receded into darkness.

***

The wind slammed against his body as he fought against it. Once he deemed the distance sufficient, he turned around to keep the Kyuubi within his line of sight.

Nestling Naruto between his feet, Minato weaved the hand seals required in order to perform the sealing. His hands were a blitz of movement - moving faster than they ever did in life - each seal forming within his mind with perfect vividness and clarity.

The demon howled out in rage, its form thrashing in place, causing the earth to tremor and spilt. The beast’s massive tails swerved throughout the air, slamming into the ground, carving furrows into the landscape. Strong bursts of wind brushed up against him; the pockets of air swallowing the distance between them nigh-instantly, even with all the distance he’d gotten.

Minato clapped his hands together - the act being the final action required to summon the spirit - doing so caused strange vibrations to emit through the air, as if reality was being shattered.

Without probable cause, the beast stopped struggling, appearing transfixed.

Then its mouth parted ways and the trees surrounding Gamabunta and itself turned to dust.

Minato responded before his mind had processed what had happened.

Mindful as to not remove his hands from their position, Minato molded chakra as best he could without the use of hand seals to create a Kage Bunshin.

The results of which - if underwhelming - were successful. The newly created clone dived forward and formed a barrier around Naruto, yet Minato secretly harbored doubts towards the efficiency the shielding would provide.

He didn’t hesitate as he threw himself in-front of his son and expended out chakra in all directions to form a make-shift barrier composed to negate the worst of the damage. His pathways burned like fire as they made to endure his chakra being expelled in such an unconventional fashion, and he knew right there that several of them had burst from having too much chakra being forced through them.

He didn’t flinch. A moment’s pain was nothing; if it meant placing Naruto out of peril, he’d pay any price.

Then the sweeping waves of pain washed over him, and Minato found himself having to bite back screams as his body tremored. He felt like he was being torn apart at every inch. That every bone was being ground into dust. Like his skin was beginning to _peel_ off his body. As if he was being bathed in acid and that his flesh was starting to melt. He squeezed his eyes shut to try and block out the pain, only to regret it immediately after.

There was nothing: the thrashing of the Kyuubi, Gamabunta’s strained grunts as he bought him time, the heaving of the earth, the agonizing pain... everything had dispersed as if it had never existed.

A petrifying thought burrowed its way into his head – his clone’s last moments _not_ making their way back to him only serving to solidate it – and he suddenly found himself too afraid to confirm his suspicions. But then a sudden coldness raced throughout the core of his body and to the furthest ends of his extremities; senses partly returned, he allowed his eyes to take in the sight that beheld him.

As if the clapping of his hands had shattered some unseen metaphysical barrier, a permeating chill ran throughout the air, while the looming darkness of night appeared to grow even darker.

A haunting spiritual figure formed within the space between himself and the Kyuubi; the God of Death itself was summoned. Minato was almost surprised by the apparition’s appearance: a bony figure, draped in black robes, an hour glass loosely hanging off its waist, suspended by black chains... exactly what he had imagined what the Death God’s appearance would be.

Somehow, that only served to make the whole thing worse.

A palpable sense of dread overtook him, and Minato tore his gaze away from the divine being. Instead, settling his gaze downward, upon his greatest achievement; ever the welcoming sight that he always was.

As the dreaded Deity fully formed, the coldness and emptiness hit full force; like a black hole, it _sucked_ energy in. Minato’s knees nearly gave out; his form feeling heavier, like some unseen weight was pressing him down. It was if vitality itself ceased to exist within the presence of the Shinigami.

Throughout the materialization of the Death God, Minato became increasingly unnerved; when he’d obtained the scroll listing the jutsu to summon the “Shinigami”, he was skeptical about whether it was actually some sort of genuine divine entity, rather than an incredibly powerful summon that possessed an overinflated ego with a sense of grandeur to match.

But now, now he knew better.

No matter how much he wished he did not.

Then, the Death God _spoke_ , breaking Minato out of his epiphany, as the words alone caused spikes of pain to run through him. “The vessel is present, as is the tribute. What is to be sealed?”

Minato shivered as the Shinigami focused Hi— _Its_ attention on him, the same coldnessthat was present only increasing in intensity. “I...” he tried to communicate, tried to form words, but as he looked at his child, the full ramifications of what he was doing hit him full force.

Like poison, doubt began to snake its way into his mind; his thoughts took a darker turn. What if something went wrong? What if Naruto couldn’t withstand the demonic chakra? _Why_ had he _presumed_ this _thing_ would even abide by his request? What...

The other-worldly power flowing around him stilled, only to _increase_ ten-fold; his entire body felt as if he had been submerged in ice-cold waters and–

The world shattered.

His lungs and heart were pierced by metal; before a scream of agony could be ripped from his throat, it too was torn out by a flash of steel. His head was then removed from his shoulders, the weapon bearing a resemblance to the one that had previously cut out his throat. Despite the lethal injury, the pain that assailed him did not stop, as razor-sharp crescents of wind from all directions tore into him, while his body was subjected to lethal currents of lightning that coursed its way to his brain. His heart was shredded to pulp, his head was reduced to an unidentifiable mixture of brains, blood a—

Face now upon grassy plain, Minato sucked in lungful’s of air. Just _what_ had–

 _It_ was speaking again, only now the words seemed to reverberate off the air, actually _growing_ in volume with each pass.

“The Kyuubi no Youko shall be sealed within the vessel presented. As it is spoken, so it shall be.”

With mounting apprehension that only continued to grow and fester like some stricken disease, his addled mind slowly churned and processed that statement; something was...

The Shinigami’s hand tore through the air at impossible speeds, crossing the space between the Kyuubi and Itself instantaneously; before his mind could even fully comprehend what had transpired, the demonic being’s _entire_ _body_ was deconstructed into some form of volatile red substance.

A substance that was being sucked into a typhoon of black energy. Energy that was being directly funneled into the already forming seal that was being grafted unto Naruto’s belly.

Some form of pain reached him, only there was something more to it; a high-strung screeching reaped at his ears, seeming to come from everywhere, yet sounding like its source was very close...

The sympathized chorus of agony only continued to grate at his ears, the cacophony so sharp and piercing that he felt as if that his ears were going to burst under the pressure alone.

To his rampant horror, he recognized the sound for what it was: screaming.

And it wasn’t coming from him.

Realization pierced the haze that overtaken his mind, and his blood turned to ice.

He hadn’t...

A word resounded through his mind, echoing through his head, growing louder each time.

The next words that left his lips were drowned out by his infant child’s screams of pain.

“Oh God _no_...”

***

Figures composed of black and white grated against the other, his eyes unable to form clear images under the mind-shattering agony.

A blazing inferno clashed against a blizzard composed of penetrating, artic ice, the two forces battling for supremacy. The battlefield being his body.

Energy flowed across his belly, microscopic sealing arrays interwove across his bare flesh; flowing, turning, and connecting, one after another. Each one carrying the feeling of having millions of tiny knifes gnawing through his skin.

Cascades of acidic, boiling chakra swept through his system; its substance melding seamlessly with his own.

But beneath all the soul-crushing torment, there was a torrent of emotions he couldn’t identify, and the strangest feeling of losing _something_ ;he didn’t know what it was, but, instinctively, he knew it held value beyond comprehension.

And in the back of his mind, he knewthat he was the one responsible for its loss.

Even the searing heat and the icy cold incisions that wracked his very being couldn’t be held in comparison to that.

The seemly unending torture soon reached its apex, and the world he saw was bathed in a new light; his eyes burned with the fire of a thousand suns, and the sapphire-blue that made up his iris’ contracted and dilated as the deep pits of blue bled and gave way to pitless black, while a terrible shape began its formation within the black abyss.

***

Minato felt that he could now fully grasp the length of time eternity entailed.

He could _hear_ his heart hammering in his chest; the thundering organ causing his ears to ring and turning his already darkening vision into a mixture of haze and indistinctive blurs. He had tried counting the beats.

He’d lost count at a thousand.

Everything was so _cold_. His lungs _screamed_ for air, yet only were given the barest amounts of it. And somewhere within the duration of the sealing, Naruto’s agonized screams of torment had died down.

Died down until he was as silent as the grave.

And in his panicked frenzy, his mind drew one conclusion from that.

“The sealing is complete. The payment: adequate.” The Death God’s voice sounded from everywhere, echoing, yet growing fainter with each pass. Soon, the unearthly and overbearing aura receded along with its Owner.

But even with the miasma of death and despair receding, his vision still swam with darkness, his ears thrummed with the faintly weakening beat of his heart; his current slight barely to make out Naruto’s still form.

Minato knew full well he was going to die, he had accepted the fact and had deemed it as a necessary sacrifice to insure the survival of what he held dear.

And he would sacrifice a lot more to continue that survival.

Which was why, for good or ill, he could not–would not–die without knowing the fate he had delivered upon his child.

Yet despite his own inner resolve, even as he tried to move his arm, his fingers barely so much as twitched in response. The numbness was only growing stronger he felt himself sink further into the grassy plain.

Grass that felt much rougher, and much dryer than it should. As if it hadn’t seen rain in...

A soothing warm flowed through-out his body, causing the oppressive chill of death to be warded off, as if it was being battled away; he didn’t question the absurdity of it, didn’t question the cause of this miraculous event, he only acted on sheer instinct – like it was his only purpose toliving _._

Using the last remaining bits of his dwindling strength, Minato reached out for Naruto, and gently placed his trembling hand against his son’s chest.

His _warm_ and _rising_ chest.

Relief’s comforting embrace swept over him and the terrible dread was washed away like a horrific nightmare. Minato felt a weight greater than that of the Shinigami’s aura lift off his shoulders; he hadn’t killed his own child.

He let out the tears he’d been holding back, and let a last-minute smile bloom across his face – he could go to his grave content. Content with the knowledge that he hadn’t doomed his own child.

In the face of such tragedy, what else mattered?

Slowly, but surely, he raised his head to look at Naruto’s form.

He couldn’t be sure, but he thought that he even lo—

The thought died as soon as it came, when his dim and distorted vision attained a rapidly degrading visual of Naruto’s eyes.

 _Red_ eyes.

Almost like the Ky—

Minato’s face lost all color, turning chalk white, his eyes widened in unabated horror, his lips parting in a silent scream.

Words entered what were once his mind, only to be lost amongst the blank void.

There was nothing left.

***

He walked into the newly made clearing caring the bundle, the dead grass crunching beneath his footwear. The Hokage’s rapidly cooling corpse and that of his infant son awaiting his arrival.

 **“So it worked, just as he predicted.”** He kept the surprise out of his words, while Tobi was by no means _stupid_ –orchestrating this entire situation and playing the Fourth so thoroughly were but proof of that – he wasn’t exactly comparable to Madara in terms of overall intellectual capabilities.

Though, he may need to reevaluate just where Tobi’s intelligence lay if the fact that the Yondaime’s son’s eyes evolving into their Mangekyou stage was purely coincidental, or all according to plan. The fact that he’d overheard him talking about brewing a situation that would force him to strike down the child within his arms casted doubt on that notion, however. He dispelled that train of thought before it could truly start; he had a job to do.

Within his hands lay Tobi’s self-proclaimed greatest work: A “homunculus”. That was what he had called him–at least, it appeared to be a boy; he had the proper parts associated with a human male, after all.

From what Tobi had disclosed, it was effectively a normal human, with some... benefits, not the least of which being what was contained within the seal that was inscribed upon his belly.

As for what those benefits were and just whose genes he had running through him, Black Zetsu neither knew nor cared. But given the fact that Tobi had called them “brothers”, he could take an educated guess.

His eyes narrowed behind the ANBU Commander’s mask; it appeared a search team of some sort was coming over to investigate. It was just as well; his work here was finished.

With that thought, he placed the substitute in front of the deceased Hokage, replacing him with that of his recently “born” brother.

Not that anyone was ever going to _know_ that.

Now there was but one lose end that needed to be dealt with. **_‘It’s done. Commence with the final phase.’_** he ordered to his other half, daring him to disagree.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, his other half appeared to comprehend the seriousness of his task, and responded with an affirmative, _‘Yes, yes; I got it.’_

He nodded to himself; the plan was now set. The night still fresh, he collected Naruto and took off with him.

***

~ Mountains' Graveyard ~

He moved through the numerous tunnels and caverns with practiced ease, slowly, mindful as to not disturbed his sleeping charge – he could only tolerate so much pitiful sobbing—not the mewling of a new-born. _Sobbing._ Literally crying so hard and relentlessly that he required to take in air into his small lungs at a very audible level.

It was a miracle alone that’d finally gotten him to relax, yet alone actually _sleep._

“Oh? Finally arrived have you?” He looked up at his other half, who seemed to have been feasting recently, going by the blood coating his lips.

Black Zetsu was in no mood to strike up the effort that it’d take for himself to respond to his other half’s baseless remark – not that he would have – he was carrying a newborn, clearly he couldn’t just use Mayfly to get here. **“Where’s Tobi?”**

In response to his question, his other half bore a delightfully pleased grin, and pointed a hand to his left.

He shifted his gaze towards where his half was pointing, and frowned at the sight. The remains of Tobi’s mask could be seen, with what appeared to be pieces of brain matter... lovely.

 **“He’s dead, then?”** he asked, annoyed. While he wasn’t particularly fond of Tobi, with Madara dead and gone he had been a necessary replacement.

A replacement that would now have to be to be filled...

“Indeed! Seems the Hokage withheld a little trick with his Hiraishin and took our dear leader from behind.” His other half accompanied this proclamation with a lick of lips; the implications of the action weren’t lost on him.

**“Idiot, now what exactly do you propose we do with _him_?” **

His other half only continued to grin infuriatingly – seemingly staring at something – not appearing bothered in the least by his verbal cut back.

He followed his other half’s gaze, which appeared to be leveled upon the sleeping child within his arms.

The practically ever-present grin that adorned his other half’s face only grew wider as he spoke his next words. If Black Zetsu didn’t know better, he might’ve of actually thought he was other half was about to suggest something _useful –_ that last one was but a fluke.

_That’ll be the day._

“I’ve got an idea...”

**~ End ~**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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